


a heart's a heavy burden

by snapfreeze



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, pre-battle fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapfreeze/pseuds/snapfreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fareeha is more than capable of taking care of herself, but Angela still worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a heart's a heavy burden

**Author's Note:**

> me before overwatch: hahaha it’s not like i can get attached to characters in a game with no story  
> me two hours after overwatch: i’m in hell

As the view flying by the portside door starts to look increasingly familiar, Fareeha finds herself getting more and more relaxed. While she wishes it were under better circumstances, it’s good to be home.

The joints of the armour covering her lower body click into place as she listens to Tracer and Lucio race each other around the ship. She slaps her palm against theirs when they offer it to her as they whizz past, hooting and hollering. Fareeha doesn’t know how they can carry on like this, not when they’re sitting in an uncomfortably warm metal ship, waiting to be dropped off into a skirmish to eliminate a group of elite mercenaries with big egos and suspiciously bigger guns. She’s only in her light combat suit and lower body armour, but the material of the suit is already sticking to her uncomfortably. Fareeha grimaces at the prospect of having to fight in the Egyptian heat with a jetpack on her back.

Her hand closes around the lip of her outer torso piece when something touches her bare forearm. Fareeha is confused for a brief second before she’s pulled into a secluded corner.

Angela is already all dressed for battle, her Valkyrie suit polished and gleaming in the sunlight pouring in from the window above them. Fareeha sets the bulky chest piece onto the floor, letting it lean against her leg as Angela steps closer. Fingers stroke along her jaw, almost reverent, and Fareeha’s arms wraps themselves around Angela’s waist to pull her closer.

“Ready to dispense some justice?” Angela’s eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. Fareeha’s heart leaps in her chest at the sight, like some giddy schoolgirl with a crush. It’s almost gross how Angela makes her react.

“I am always ready to dispense justice.” Fareeha quips in a deadpan voice, her mock stoic expression cracking at the sound of the soft snort that escapes Angela.

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of how good you are at _raining justice from above_.”

Fareeha tuts. “See, Reinhardt agrees that it’s a good catchphrase. Besides, you’re giving me grief for it when your suit makes you look like a literal angel. Subtle, much?”

“I did not design this suit on my own. Besides, it is supposed to inspire hope.” Angela huffs. Fareeha arches an eyebrow and Angela pokes her in the side, grinning at the yelp that the action incites. Silence settles over them as Fareeha traces a fingertip along the rim of the halo-like headpiece of the Valkyrie suit. Angela tilts her head to look at her with worried eyes.

“Don’t fly where I can’t follow.”

Angela’s voice is quiet, and Fareeha hears a hint of fear. The tip of her nose brushes against the side of Angela’s as their foreheads bump together. She’s acutely aware of Tracer and Lucio’s absence from this side of the ship, most likely bothering Mei and Zarya up near the cooking area to give them some privacy. Overwatch may not be an official organisation, but Angela _is_ the only doctor and they both _technically_ shouldn’t be doing this. They’re usually careful about open displays of affection, but Angela is distressed and Fareeha can’t have that.

“We have other people on this team too, you know.” She urges.

“Scans of the mercenaries’ most likely route through the site have returned. There are many high vantage points where snipers could be h-- “

“Angela.” Fareeha interrupts gently.

“Fareeha.” Angela parrots back, but relents with a sigh. “I just don’t want to have to tend to you again after getting shot out of the sky. Last time was… it was difficult to see.”

Fareeha’s chest gives a sympathetic twinge at the reminder of the last time she was allowed to participate in a mission. While they were chasing a group of terrorists trying to deliver an explosive payload, none of them had expected the mounted machine gun that sent Pharah tumbling from the sky and smashing through a construction site. The impact with the ground had been devastating, leaving her barely clinging to life. Winston and Mercy had found her soon after and just like most of the people in Overwatch, she’d be dead if not for the miracles that the woman in her arms had worked.

Torbjorn had repaired the holes littering her suit in little over a day, and had even thrown in a few extra features. Physical recovery had been very manageable for Fareeha. Per doctor’s orders, it had only taken a week until she was medically cleared for service again. Fareeha feels as good as new, though she isn’t too sure about Angela. Fareeha wakes some nights to catch Angela lying awake, fingers stroking the areas where the bullets had torn through her suit and lodged themselves snugly in her torso. The skin there is smooth, unmarred but Angela touches it like she’s fragile.

“Just… “ Angela lays a hand on the mesh endoskeleton covering Fareeha’s chest, right over her heart. “Be careful. Please. Don’t play hero.”

“I’m always careful, and don’t worry. I’m no hero.” Fareeha offers a crooked grin.

“You’ve saved countless lives. You’re a hero to them.” Angela cocks her head to the side, indicating the city that bustles outside of the transport ship. “You are to your team mates.”

Angela looks at her, so full of pride and affection, and the _you are a hero to me_ does not need to be verbalised. Pushing Angela further into their little corner, Fareeha kisses her in lieu of a worded answer. Hands reach up to tangle in silky black hair, and Angela relaxes significantly against her. Angela’s mouth is soft and inviting against her’s, and Fareeha instinctively pulls her closer. The warmth of Angela’s hand bleeds through the layers separating them and Fareeha nips at the medic’s bottom lip, smirking lightly at the gasp it incites before pulling away. The hand cupping the back of her neck means she can’t move far, but she doesn’t mind.

“After this,” Fareeha murmurs, “We can sneak off and I will take you to places where they make shawarma and kanafeh that is to die for.”

“Date night?”

Fareeha nods. “Yes. We’ve earned a night off. It’s been a while, has it not? ”

“Too long.”

“Ten minutes until arrival.” The ship’s AI announces, and they break apart at the sound. Angela smiles up at her.

“Come, let’s get the rest of your suit on. It’ll be faster with two people.”

Fareeha nods. With two people, the job is completed with four minutes to spare. The spaces in her suit are filled with rockets, and her weapon blinks three times and beeps, ready for use. Zarya grasps her hand firmly in a handshake as they all converge in front of the portside door.

“Fight well, my friend.”

“Same to you, Zarya.”

The Russian woman nods and hefts her particle cannon onto her shoulder. Angela appears beside Fareeha with her eagle helmet in her hands, and Fareeha lowers her head. The helmet slips on easily, and Fareeha cricks her neck as the ship continues to slow its descent.

“Thirty seconds until touchdown.”

The user interface and targeting reticule blink to life behind her visor, and Pharah turns to Mercy with a smile when she gives her armoured forearm a quick squeeze.

“Let’s protect the skies together.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, find me @shepardtsoni on tumblr


End file.
